Harry's sixth year
by daydreamer696
Summary: Harry is in his sixth year now, and is finding Sirius's death hard to cope with. He returns to Hogwarts, but someone is plotting against him. Please, please, please review this!


Chapter One  
  
He was there again. For the hundredth time, Harry was standing in the department of mysteries. He knew what was going to happen, what he was going to see. He was rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed open, there was nothing he could do to stop himself from watching. He should have been used to it by now, it had been replayed to him so many times now. But as he watched Sirius fall through the strange blue veil for the hundredth time, Harry felt the same desperation and panic that always filled his chest every night the scene was replayed to him. He felt the same urge to lunge forward and scream to Sirius not to leave him, not to desert him when Voldemort had risen and when Harry needed him most. But he couldn't. He simply stared as his godfather - the man who he had only known for two years but had so quickly learned to love – disappeared through the veil. Suddenly, but too late, Harry found his voice again. "No!" he screamed. "No please, Sirius!"  
  
Harry awoke, breathing rapidly. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and his covers were strewn across the bedroom floor. He stood up, and shakily walked across the room and opened the window. It was too hot, far too hot, so hot he could hardly breathe. He quickly leaned out of the window, and gulped down the clean, cold air. But it wasn't enough. Harry knew what – or who – he needed, and it was the one thing he couldn't have. Hedwig hooted softly in the corner, but Harry ignored her. He knew she was worried about him, but this had been happening every night of the holidays, she should have been used to it by now. She hooted again, louder this time. Harry turned quickly to face her, anger boiling inside him. She was going to wake the whole house up! Why couldn't she just leave him be? "Just shut up, okay? I'm fine!" He hissed angrily. Hedwig stared at him reproachfully, shock and hurt reflecting in her amber eyes. Harry instantly felt terrible. But he couldn't do anything about it now, it was too late, the damage had been done. Just like it had been for...  
  
Harry walked across the bedroom again, and lay on the bed, leaving the cover on the floor. He was still breathing heavily, as though he couldn't quite take in enough oxygen with each breath. He felt trapped. Trapped by grief and guilt. It had been him who had lead Sirius to his death. It was his fault he was feeling like this. It was because of his stupidity that Sirius was dead. It was all his fault, and there was nothing he could do to make the guilt and grief go away. Five weeks of the holidays had already gone, and no one had written. Did everyone else blame him too? He knew, of course, about the risk of owl interception and everything, but surely they could write to him just once? Nothing to do with the Order, just maybe to tell him how they were, ask him how he was. Maybe they didn't care. After what he'd done, he couldn't blame them. As he thought of his friends, his eyes brimmed with tears, and he felt a burning sensation at the back of his throat. He wiped the tears away quickly with his pyjama sleeve. He would see them soon at Hogwarts, he told himself. No need to get upset about that.  
  
Instantly he felt a little better. Hogwarts. His home. Just thinking about it seemed to warm him inside slightly. If he couldn't have Sirius, he needed Hogwarts. His grief wasn't being helped by staying with the Dursleys, that much was certain. They seemed afraid of him, more so than last summer, as though he were about to pull out his wand and hex every one of them. He often saw Aunt Petunia glance warily at his pocket, as though she suspected him of keeping dangerous, magical items hidden inside. Uncle Vernon – who before had delighted in yelling at Harry at least five times a day – had now simply turned to kicking him out of the house every time he misbehaved. Harry didn't mind, he preferred being out of the house to in it. Still, though, Harry needed to get back to his real home, and his real family. There was only one thing he needed more than Hogwarts at that moment...but that was impossible.  
  
Or was it? He was a wizard, wasn't he? There must be a spell that could... No, Harry told himself. No, it wasn't possible. If there had been a spell, he would have heard of it before. Sirius was gone. He was dead and gone and there was nothing he could do about it. He might as well just think about something else. But the more Harry tried to clear his head of Sirius, the more the thought preyed on his mind. What if there was a way? What if he could get Sirius back? Yes it would be hard, but Harry was used to taking risks... Harry jumped out of bed. He knew what he was going to do. If there was any way of bringing Sirius back, he knew where he could find it. Knockturn Alley. He put all of his Hogwarts things into a suitcase, making sure to put his robes at the top of the case, ready to pull out if he needed to change. He put his wand carefully into his pocket; he would almost certainly need it. As he stood up and walked quietly to the door, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. His air was untidy as usual, his face just as skinny, his glasses just as round. But there was something else in that reflection too. A wild flare was lit behind his eyes, determination shining like a beacon, almost illuminating his pale face.  
  
He tore himself away from the mirror, and tiptoed quietly down the staircase, making to keep to the edges of the steps where they creaked the least. If he was caught by any of the Dursleys now he didn't want to think of what the rest of his summer would be like; they were scared of him, yes, but they knew he couldn't use magic out of school, and that they were needed to keep Harry safe. They knew that none of what they called "Harry's sort" could do anything to them. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the reached the bottom stair, and tiptoed silently into the immaculate kitchen, where all the keys were tidily hung. When he had taken the front door key, he crept to the front door, and opened it as quietly as possible, pausing halfway through to check that he could still hear Uncle Vernon snoring loudly upstairs. He closed the door silently behind him, and breathed another huge sigh of relief. He walked to the pavement, and raised his wand to signal for the knight bus.  
  
Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, a huge black bundle launched itself onto Harry. He tried to yell, but he found that his voice had disappeared – obviously this black bundle could use magic. Still recovering from the shock of what he had just experienced, he heard someone whisper "Expelliarmus!" He felt his wand shoot out of his hand. He shielded his head with his arms, but no more spells were thrown at him. Slowly, he dropped his arms to his sides, and looked at the figure standing before him. It was Tonks! "Tonks!" He said, shocked. "What are you doing here?" "Guarding you, what do think?" She said angrily. "And a good thing too, it seems. What do you think you're doing? Do you realise how much danger you just put yourself in? What if you were being watched? Look how simple it was for me to attack you from behind, if a follower of Voldemort had been watching you, you could have had the Cruciatus curse on you by now!" "All I did was walk onto the pavement, and I don't see any dark wizards jumping onto my back!" Harry argued, though he knew that Tonks was right. He had been stupid. He felt all his adrenaline disappearing, leaving him feeling foolish and embarrassed. Tonks gave him a grave look. "That's really not the attitude we need from you at a time like this," she said, shaking her head. "If we can't trust you to keep yourself safe..." She trailed off. Harry hung his head, knowing he had made a huge mistake. They wouldn't trust him at all now. He would be treated like a child. "Look," he said, pleadingly, "I know I made a mistake, it's just, I was missing Sirius, and I dunno, I went kind of crazy." He looked up at her, trying to read her expression. Her face softened. "I know you miss Sirius Harry," she said. "We all do." To Harry's utter humiliation, she pulled him into a huge hug, smothering his face so that he couldn't breathe. When she finally let him go, he gasped for air, feeling embarrassed. "I'll still have to tell the Order about this, you know," she carried on. "We just can't have you walking out onto he streets again, it's not safe. But I'll try and convince them not to go down too hard on you. I'm sure they'll understand." Harry wasn't so sure himself; he knew how strict some of the members could be. He knew, though, that he wouldn't be able to persuade Tonks to keep quiet. He hung his head again. "I guess I'll go back inside now, then," he muttered. "Oh, no!" Tonks exclaimed. "You're coming with me, back to Grimmauld Place! I'm not leaving you here! Besides, the holiday's almost over, and you've packed your bags. I'll have your Aunt and uncle owled." A few hours ago, Harry would have been overjoyed to hear this, but now he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He didn't want to have to face the Order after what he'd done; for once he'd rather face the Dursleys instead. "How will we get there?" He asked resignedly. "Floo powder, of course!" Tonks said brightly. "Normally the fireplace at the Order is anti-floo, but tonight so many people will be coming and going they've opened it up especially!" Harry strongly disliked using floo powder, after a previous bad experience in which he arrived in completely the wrong fireplace. The thought of using floo powder, mixed with the thought of what he would experience when he arrived, made him feel worse than he had all week. "Great," he said, trying as hard as he could to sound the slightest bit enthusiastic. Tonks noticed his despondency, and immediately guessed what he was thinking. "Don't worry," she said gently. "They won't be too hard on you. They all know somewhat how you feel, they're grieving too, remember?" She paused. "Oh, and here's your wand." She handed it to him, and Harry took it gratefully. "Right," Tonks said. "Let's get going shall we?" Harry nodded, and led her into the house.  
  
When Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place, he was immediately interrogated by Professor Lupin, without so much as a 'Hello Harry, how are you?" When Lupin heard what had done, he sat in silence for a while, Harry feeling more and more uncomfortable as every second passed. Finally, Lupin seemed to snap out of his trance, and looked at Harry gravely. "I'm afraid, Harry," he said sadly, "that Tonks is absolutely right. What you did was immensely stupid, not to mention dangerous. I feel apprehensive about sending you back to your Aunts. However, you can't stay here, there's not enough time for us to look after you." "I can look after myself!" Harry said indignantly. "Well, I'm afraid Harry, that that's not the impression you've given me tonight." Harry looked at the floor, ashamed. "As I was saying." Lupin continued. "You just can't stay here. I will have to contact Molly and Arthur; they'll have to have you at the Burrow for the remainder of the holidays." At the mention of the Burrow, Harry looked up, his heart lifting. "I will, of course, have to tell them why." Harry heart sank again at the thought of Mrs. Weasley hearing about what had happened. "Please," Harry pleaded. "Don't tell Mrs. Weasley, she'll go mental!" Unlike Tonks, Lupin's face didn't soften a bit. "I'm afraid, Harry, that that's the price you have to pay for your actions. Go to bed now, you'll be taken to the Burrow first thing tomorrow morning." With that, Lupin strode across the room, and walked out into the corridor. Harry was left standing, shocked. He had never heard Lupin speak to him like that before, never. He had thought he could count on Lupin of all people to be sympathetic, but not once that evening had Lupin said a single kind word to him. What was going on? This wasn't just Lupin in a bad mood; it seemed to Harry that this was Lupin deliberately trying to make Harry feel as terrible as possible. Harry shook himself out of his daze, and made his own way across the corridor. Halfway up the stairs, he met Mad-Eye Moody, his eye swivelling in its socket as usual. "Night, Harry," Moody grunted. Harry, not in the mood for conversation, simply murmured something in the back of his throat, smiled weakly, and carried on up the stairs. However, Moody held him back "Look, Harry, I heard you and Lupin talking just now," he muttered. Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know I was an idiot, and now I'm paying the price." Harry muttered. "You were," Moody agreed. "However, unlike Lupin, I don't blame you for it. I've seen what grief does to you, and you're coping well compared to some." Harry looked up at him, amazed at what he was hearing. "But Lupin..." "Yes, I know." Moody said, sadly. "Remus doesn't seem to be taking grief very well. He's snapping at all of us. Don't take it personally. First James, then Sirius. It took years for him to get over your father's death. Sirius dying has been too much for him. I'm not sure if he's quite accepted it yet." Moody sighed. "And the full moon's approaching too; Lupin is under a lot of stress at the moment." Harry nodded at him, and then carried on up the stairs. Through all his grief, he hadn't thought much about how Lupin would be feeling. But thinking about it now, Lupin had known Sirius for even longer than Harry had. Harry couldn't bear to think about what that must be doing to him inside. He reached his room, and without changing, fell onto his bed. He slept as soon as his head touched the pillow. 


End file.
